What the Devil?
by TicketRideGirl
Summary: The Beatles are warned by a gypsy woman that they will die if they have a concert.
1. Chapter 1

_If the rain comes they run and hide their heads..._

Four young Liverpool lads cross the street of London; covering themselves with their jackets.

_...They might as well be dead..._

One of them, the leader with the penetrating glaze in his eyes, stops and points to a building between a comic book store and a bakery. He starts moving toward the place and the others quickly follow.

_...If the rain comes, if the rain comes..._

Once the lads are inside the building, a gypsy woman enters through a beaded curtain. She's very old and very exotic-looking. She had lots and lots of jewerly on: gold bracelets, silver rings, black and red stone necklaces. Her blond hair was now a steely gray color. Her eyes were a deep violet. Her name was Madame Aishe.

"Welcome, Beatles," she purred. "I was expecting you..."

"Can you tell us how to get to the Palladium?" asked the jet-black hair Beatle. "See, we've lost our roadies and manager from a large pack of screaming girls, and we have a concert to perform very soon..."

"You won't be going," Madame Aishe replied.

The Beatles froze.

"What d'you mean?" spoke the short Beatle.

"Madame Aishe predicts there'll be no concert tonight..."

"Why you think that?" asked the leader Beatle. "Of course there'll be one!"

"Mass destruction and chaos will happen," Madame Aishe said. "If you go, you will die..."

"I've had enough of this," snarled the very slim Beatle. "Your just playing some sick joke, trying to scare us and make us be late for our concert! Now tell us: _Do__ you know where the Palladium is?" _

"Yes." Madame Aishe smiled. With a crooked finger she gestured for the lads to come and follow her to the next room through the beaded curtain. The Beatles hesitated, but soon caught up with the strange gypsy.

They sat around a table with a green table cloth thrown over it. A white crystal ball stood in the center. Madame Aishe closed her eyes and instruct the Beatles to recite their names.

"Paul..."

"George..."

"Ringo..."

"John!"

"With me are The Beatles," Madame Aishe spoke very deeply. "Oh great crystal ball, show me what will become of tonight's concert..."

Suddenly, the crystal ball had magically lit up. The Beatles widened their eyes at the mystic bright glow. "Yowza," muttered John. Ringo elbowed him to shut up. "There'll be no talking!" Madame Aishe barked. "Watch..." It didn't take long for an image to appear through the glass ball. The Beatles soon could see the inside of the Palladium Theater. They saw themselves performing on stage while their millions of fans cheered them on. Each Beatle smiled around the table. They were liking what they were seeing, so far. What could be the problem? Then a spark shoots up behind the stage. BANG! More sparks. Cheers soon turn into screams and shouts. The Beatles on stage stop performing. "LOOK OUT!" voices cry. The beautiful chandelier from above rips off the ceiling and falls straight down. One half of the theater is covered in flames. People are screaming and running away. "Ohmygod, ohmygod! Did you see that?" John Lennon screams into his mic. Paul McCartney yanks him backwards by the shoulders and they dash backstage, followed by George Harrison and Ringo Starr. Then the crystal ball had fogged up and there was nothing more to see.

"Damn, shit, fuck!" John cursed, leaning back in his chair wiping his mouth.

"What the hell was that?" Ringo demanded to Madame Aishe.

"That is your fate if you go to tonight's concert," the old gypsy woman said.

"I get it," Paul said with a nervous chuckle, "you're joking! Ha ha ha!"

She shook her head. "I am not."

"You're a spooky old lady who likes scaring people! That's not very nice, you know?" George exclaimed. "I can't be here any longer, I'm leaving this shitty place..." He scraped back his wooden chair and stormed off.

"Me too," Ringo said, leaving also.

"Screw you, and your magical crystal ball!" John spat. He was the third Beatle to go.

It was just Paul at the table now, and he looked very frightened. Madame Aishe reached over and took his hands. He gazed at her with his mouth wide open, unblinking. "Your friends are too scared to believe," the woman said in that soft, airy voice of hers. "You are their only hope. Stop them before it's too late."

"H-how?" Paul stammered. "I still can't believe it... Will the fire...?"

"The fire will happen," Madame Aishe nodded, "only if you go to the Palladium. No concert means no death."

"Well, I certainly don't want to die," Paul said. "Not like that. And all of those people..."

Madame Aishe squeezed his hands, "You must go," she said. "Stop your friends, and tell them you can't have the concert."

Paul sighed. "Alright," he said. He bit his lip. Madame Aishe had let go of his hands. Paul scraped his chair back and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "Looks like it's going to be me who'll pay you," he said gently.

Madame Aishe waved him away. "I don't want your money. Now go!"

"Hey, guys, wait up!" Paul called after, running out of the building. "Hold on!"

"That woman has lost her marbles! Messed up in the head!" George said, shaking his head with disgust. Paul grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Please," Paul said, "listen for a sec. Maybe she's right?"

John snapped, "The crystal ball's gone to ya head?"

"Maybe he's hypnotized!" Ringo yelped.

"No," Paul hissed, "I bloody am not. We're not having the concert!"

"Yes we are!" George argued.

"No, we can't!" Paul's eyes were dark and fierce. "I'm not going to have any people die tonight!"

"That dumb gypsy woman's a kook! She's a fraud, if I ever saw one!" John snarled.

Paul stood his ground. "Look lads, I'm sorry-"

The cute Beatle never got to finish his sentence for he was interupt by a terrible explosion.

**Should I continue? :) Please review**


	2. Chapter 2

"KA-BOOM!"

The Beatles watched the Palladium theater blow up hundred yards away from them. George covered his mouth looking about ready to cough. John's eyes were popping out from their sockets. Ringo's mouth was hanging out; catching flies. It was Paul who really showed emotion. His face crushed, and tears started rolling down his cheeks. "No," he spoke in a half-whisper. "No no _no!" _He fell down to his knees and started pounding his fist on the ground. "Paulie?" Ringo bent over and wrapped an arm around the bass player's shoulders. "Shh, it's okay... You're okay, mate..."

"Ohmygod, ohmygod! Did you see that?" John screamed. _Just like in the crystal ball,_ Paul thought. "Holy shit! Wow!" For a second there, Paul thought he could see a smirk form John's lips. _"Do you think this is funny?"_ Paul shouted through his tears. He pushed Ringo off him and stood in front of his witty, smart-ass of a partner. _"Huh? Do ya?" _Panic filled John's eyes now, and he raised his hands up in surrender. "Honey, calm down," John said softly. "You sound ugly when you raise your voice like that."

He wasn't trying to be funny, but Paul was too upset to realize that. He shoved John and stormed away. "Where's he going?" George asked. John called out a few times. "He's going back to the gypsy's house!" Ringo exclaimed.

Paul burst through the fortune teller's home with pure hatred in his eyes. "Where are you?" he yelled. A few seconds later, Madame Aishe entered through the beaded curtain with a pleasing look on her face. "I'm here," she said. Paul cried, "You said there'd be no fire! No death!"

"Yes," Madame Aishe nodded. "I did."

_"So why did the goddamn theater explode?"_

"Paul?" The three other Beatles appeared. "Calm down, son."

"Please do," Madame Aishe added. "I won't accept such language..." She watched Paul cover his face with his hands and let out a huge, awful sob. His friends quickly came over to him and John squeezed his waist. Ringo glared at the woman. "I hope you're happy!" he snarled. "I'm not," she said. "It's very unfortunate, but at least _you_ haven't perished..."

"Our sanities just did!" George barked. "You're a liar and a murderer, you filthy gypsy!"

"You said we couldn't play tonight, and we didn't," John pointed out.

"I'm sorry Beatles," Madame Aishe replied.

"Why's that?"

"The only lives I could save tonight were _yours_."

"So what are you implying? The Beatles have some kind of curse struck upon them?" John questioned.

"Yes." Madame Aishe's eyes lit up like two dark jewels. "If The Beatles don't want their fans to die, they cannot perform concerts ever again."

"What about tonight's show? People are dead, and we didn't sing!" Ringo said.

"That was a mistake. You never know what happens in the future..." Madame Aishe shrugged her shoulders.

"Show us, then," Paul croaked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Show us - The Beatles' - future. I want to see what we become in the future!"

"Are you sure?" A sly grin formed the woman's wrinkled lips. "It's not a pretty sight."

"Yes!" Paul urged.

"Fine. You asked for it." Madame Aishe snapped her fingers with a loud crisp "SMACK".

The Beatles disappeared and traveled to the year of

2011.


	3. Chapter 3

_When the sun shines they slip into the shade..._

_(When the sun shines down)_

_...And sip their lemonade..._

_(When the sun shines down)_

_...When the sun shines, when the sun shines..._

It was swelteringly hot and the boys were back outside with beads of sweat rolling down their temples. Cars rushed by in short, whizzing noises. The sidewalks were crowded with people. The air was full of the warm smells of hot mustard, french fries and pizza. The Beatles weren't familiar with their surroundings. Where in the world were they?

"Where in the world are we?" Ringo asked, shielding his eyes from the bright sun.

"Are we still in London?" George asked.

"Of course!" Paul said. "I just know it is!"

"What year is it?" John asked.

"Ask somebody!"

John politely reached over and touched a young woman's arm. "Miss?" she looked at him through a large pair of shades. She was around her early-twenties, with dyed black hair and a blue nose ring pierced through her left nostril. For clothes she had on was a green-and-white striped tank top and dark blue skinny jeans. She asked John what he wanted. In the most gentlest way, John asked, "What year is it, love?" The girl stared at him, then glanced at the other Beatles. Paul offered her a beautiful smile in return. She didn't smile back. She looked back at John and said, "Are you on crack or something? It's 2011!" Then she took off.

"It was only a question!" John angrily yelled back.

"2011?" Ringo repeated. "That means we've gone forty-five years into the future!"

"I've noticed something," Paul said.

"What?" his friends looked at him.

"No screams. When that bird was talking to John, she didn't scream at him once!"

"So?" George said.

"So," Paul grinned. "That means she didn't recognize him!"

"You're right," Ringo grinned back. "Let me give it a try!" The drummer looked both ways before crossing the street. Once it was clear, he ran over to the other side and stood in front of a teenage couple that were sitting on a bench, eating lunch from McDonalds. The boy had his fork frozen in mid-air pointed down to his salad; giving Ringo a blank-eyed stare. "Um, hi?" the boy said with questioning. His girlfriend gave Ringo a strange look as she was sipping her soda from a straw. "Hi there!" Ringo greeted happily. "How are you?" The kids exhanged a quick look before turning back to him. "Fine..." the boy's voice trailed off. That's when Ringo burst out laughing and ran back to his mates.

"Well?" John said, "How'd it go?"

Ringo gave him a thumbs up sign.

"I think I'm liking 2011," George decided with a smile.


End file.
